


Truth or dare?

by Drifting_clouds



Category: MotoGP RPF, Motorcycling RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Crack Fic, M/M, but we shall blame the scary fog for that, people playing random games, when they should not be allowed to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drifting_clouds/pseuds/Drifting_clouds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bored motoGP drivers are dangerous motoGP drivers (and Cal never should have trusted Jorge, anyway)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth or dare?

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on a prompt posted on Motorskink, although I changed quite a few things along the way. As usual, not betaed so my English is a little bizarre.

“Truth or dare?”

Cal stares at Jorge and feels an ice-cold shudder creep slowly down his back, because the grin Lorenzo flashes at him reminds the Brit of a white shark lounging in a fish tank. Beside him, Alvaro and Stefan exchange furtive glances then turn to stare at him, and it’s fairly obvious that they both expect something from the Spaniard.

 _Stupid typhoon!_ Crutchlow curses mentally, _and stupid, scary fog! Why must something happen every single time we come to Japan?_

The traditional Thursday pre-race conference (the one Ezpeleta invented to annoy him, the Brit could swear) should have started more than an hour ago, but only a few journalists have actually shown up. They left for coffee as they waited for their colleagues to wade through the fog-covered paddock and nobody has been seen ever since, not even the flustered Dorna man who chased after them. Cal fidgets on his chair as Jorge drums his fingers on the white table in front of him. And shit, he should have known that bored motoGP drivers are dangerous motoGP drivers, especially when Lorenzo is involved and proposes mindless games just to pass the time.

“Come on, pick one” the Spaniard tells him impatiently “I’m sure we’re all very busy people, here…”

Crutchlow snorts because the busiest person in the room is probably Alvaro who is playing an endless game of Candy Crush and he’s tempted to say ‘truth’, but since he’s pretty sure he knows what Jorge wants to ask, he shrugs his shoulders and mumbles ‘dare’ instead. When Lorenzo acts all surprised, Cal realizes that this has probably been his plan all along, but since the others are huddling around them with bated breath, he can no longer back out. Right then Matt, Azi and a couple of Italian pit-reporters trickle into the room and Crutchlow almost hopes that the press conference is about to start, only to cringe as the BBC duo walks toward the group of drivers with big grins on their faces. Pretending not to notice them, the Brit taps something on his phone as he waits to know his fate.

“Okay” Jorge eventually nods to himself “I dare you to kiss the first person stepping into the room…”

Alvaro choking on the sip of drink he just took and Matt’s high-pitched _what??_ both mean that that, yes, Lorenzo really just challenged him to kiss someone. _And trust that Spanish bastard to get creative when Matt is around and he can ramble about the whole embarrassing episode during his pre-race interview!_

As Azi pats a gasping Bautista on the back with a barely suppressed giggle, Cal just keeps tapping furiously on his phone, trying to hide the flush creeping up on his face. The phone chimes softly and Jorge leans forward as he tries to snatch it from him to read the message flashing on the screen, but Crutchlow bats his hand away and safely pockets it before the Spaniard can get a hold of it.

“So?” 

“I’m game.”

“And you can’t explain what’s going on until you actually kissed them…”

“What if I get punched?”

“Don’t worry… we shall restore your honour as you lay out cold on the floor.”

“Are you really going do this?” Stefan asks.

Grinning at the admiration he hears in the German’s voice, Cal casts Jorge a haughty look. 

“Of course I am” he snorts “piece of cake.” 

“Can I take a picture?”

“Not if you value your life, Marc” Cal warns “the same goes for you, Matt…”

“Can I at least mention it-”

“Live on BBC? No, I don’t think so.”

“B-but what if you end up kissing Dottor Costa? “Alvaro stammers as if struck by that disturbing possibility “or...or...”

“Ezpeleta?”

Stefan finishes the sentence for him.

“I hate you” the Brit grumbles, shuddering at the very vivid (and very, very unpleasant) mental image “I hate ALL of you!”

Matt bolts across the room and throws the door open, taking a quick glance down the corridor. Cal would love to look cool and collected, but as his countryman grins madly and waves at someone, he feels his hands twitch. The BBC presenter turns to stare at him and bursts into a fit of giggles that he ineffectively tries to stifle by clamping a hand over his mouth. Crutchlow glares at Matt and swallows nervously, but before he can say anything, Aleix Espargaró steps into the room followed by his future team mate Colin Edwards.

“Damn” Lorenzo hisses, glaring at him. 

Cal heaves a sigh of relief while around him, his fellow drivers (plus Matt and Azi) grumble in annoyance. Yes, he can understand that the others might be disappointed, but he’s selfish and values his life very much. Because Colin is a nice person, but he also happens to travel with enough weapons to invade a small country _and I’d like to go to bed tonight with all the limbs still attached to my body, thank you very much_ , the Brit thinks. Slowly walking across the room, Crutchlow tries to ignore the chuckles around him and stops in front of Aleix. The Spaniard looks at him with a raised eyebrow and opens his mouth to say something, but Cal beats him to it, grabbing the younger man’s head and pulling it down for a kiss. 

“Aww” Matt fawns “aren’t they cute?”

Espargaró mumbles a protest but he doesn’t pull away and the Brit is glad that his back is turned and he doesn’t have to see the smirk on Lorenzo’s face. Because this is a real kiss when a simple peck on the cheek might have been enough since Jorge never actually said it HAD to be on the mouth. As the kiss ends and he pulls back, the Brit hears someone giggle hysterically (probably Marc), but he focuses on Aleix instead. Aleix who hasn’t punched him yet and he’s standing in front of him with a mild expression on his face, as if being kissed by random people happens daily to him.

“I believe this is the moment someone should say something smart” Edwards eyes Cal warily, half expecting the Brit to kiss him as well “but I can’t think of anything better than WHAT THE HELL, MAN?”

“We were playing truth or dare” Alvaro hastens to explain “Cal picked dare…”

“And you dared him to kiss Aleix?”

“No, no, Jorge was the one who decided that he had to kiss the first person stepping into the room” Matt shrugs, as if the whole situation were perfectly normal “which just happened to be Aleix.”

The Spaniard snorts and mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like _happened, yeah, right_ but nobody can be 100% sure of that.

“Oh” Colin nods “you’re a very lucky son of a bitch, I hope you realize it.”

“Yes, he is” the Brit readily agrees with him.

Espargaró rolls his eyes at the smug tone.

“I don’t think Colin was talking about me” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know” the Texas drawls, offering him a toothy grin that would have made a t-rex proud “shoot first, ask later…”

“I doubt it” Cal boasts “I’m a pretty good kisser!”

“Hey!” Aleix whacks him none too gently on the arm, before Jorge can inquire about that "you kiss me and now you already flirt with him? That’s really…”

“Ungentlemanly?”

“I was about to say rude, but yes” the Spaniard nods “if that’s even a real word…”

“It is and you’re right, I am an awful person” Crutchlow tells him as he grasps Aleix by the arm “let me offer you a cup of coffee to make it up for my lack of manners!”

As they walk down the corridor in silence, they cross a group of German journalists, greeting them with a nod. The Dorna man escorting them casts the Brit a pleading look, but Crutchlow pretends not to see the desperation in the poor man’s eyes and slides into an empty room, dragging Aleix along with him. Then he grabs Espargaró by the shirt and kisses him again. 

“We really should stop meeting this way” he tells the Spaniard as they break apart.

Aleix pretends to think about that then he casually slings an arm around the Brit’s neck and pulls Cal close for another quick kiss.

“Then you should probably stop playing games with Lorenzo, no?” he grins “so I would not get crazy messages that say, and I quote, HELP, JORGE IS MAKING ME KISS RANDOM PEOPLE, COME RESCUE ME!!1!” 

“But if I do, then I would miss the perfect excuse to make out with you in front of everyone.”

“Aww, this is actually the sweetest thing you ever said to me…”

Cal grins.

“Listen” he whispers seductively “do you think they’ll notice if we don’t go back to the press conference? 

“I wasn’t even supposed to be there, remember?” the Spaniard shrugs “I think I might have a meeting with my team, but that’s all right, Aspar already hates me anyway… he’ll probably just sabotage my brakes tomorrow…”

The Brit grabs the phone from his pocket and starts tapping. 

_//I need you to cover for me//_

_//Why would I do that, cheater?//_

_//Because this is all your fault. You’re the one who played matchmaker so you’re morally responsible for our happiness //_

_//I hate you//_

_//Aleix says thank you//_

_//I hate BOTH of you//_

“Jorge is delighted to help us”

Espargaró is pretty sure Jorge never used those words and that leaving his countryman unsupervised during the press conference might not be such a smart idea. But Cal is already dragging him away and he has more important things to do than focus on Lorenzo’s revenge. After all, what could the man possibly do?

***fin***


End file.
